Tis Better to Give
by Dala1
Summary: Governor Swann dotes on his daughter, but the one thing he will not buy her is a sword.


Title: 'Tis Better to Give  
  
Author: Dala  
  
Rating: G  
  
Pairing: None; it's Will/Elizabeth in feeling, but they're children, so it doesn't really count. W/E friendship, if you want.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of this fanfic belong to Disney & Co. Making no profit.  
  
Dedicated to: the wonderful Beth, on her birthday. Happy 176th! g  
  
It was awfully cold today, so here's my little PotC Christmas ficlet. Happy holidays!  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Governor Swann dotes on his daughter, but the one thing he will not buy her is a sword.  
  
Will Turner knows this because every time the two of them visit the smithy to pick up a newly-shod horse or an iron instrument, Elizabeth spends all of her time and energy begging her father for a sword of her own. She sneaks off to look at the rack of the best while her father talks with Mr. Brown. Will stands shyly in the shadows, watching her touch them gently, reverently, her brown eyes large with wonder. She always tests her finger on the sharpest, absently wiping off the blood with her handkerchief while she studies the blades and Will winces. Governor Swann eventually notices her absence and scolds her off.  
  
"Elizabeth, my dear, come away from there before you do yourself an injury."  
  
She trots over to her father's side, tugging at his sleeve. "I was only looking, Father." She pauses and then blurts out, "Oh, please can't I have one?"  
  
Governor Swann sighs the sigh of the long-suffering indulgent parent. "How many times must I tell you? A sword is not a proper gift for a little girl."  
  
"I'm not a little girl!" Elizabeth declares haughtily. "I'm thirteen in a week, and then it will be Christmas a month after that, and the only thing I desire is a handsome blade!"  
  
"Who has been sneaking you pirate stories again?" the governor demands.  
  
"No one," says Elizabeth quickly, clasping her hands behind her back as she always does when she's lying. Will grins and hides it behind his own hand.  
  
"Please don't pester me now, Elizabeth, I'm busy," says Governor Swann. Elizabeth huffs in displeasure and wanders over to the sword display again. "And don't touch a thing!" her father orders just as her hand is about to descend on a silver-inlaid hilt.  
  
Elizabeth makes a very un-ladylike noise and withdraws her hand reluctantly. She catches sight of Will and smiles. "Hello, Will."  
  
"Good – good morning, Miss Swann," Will stammers, trying to rub some soot off of his hands. She makes him feel awkward and clumsy and dirty, but he would gladly look upon her forever despite it - from afar, if he had his choice. Things would be so much simpler if she didn't insist on talking to him whenever they met. "It's your birthday next week?"  
  
"It is," says Elizabeth happily. "On Thursday." She claps her hands suddenly. "Oh, I almost forgot! I'm having a party at two o'clock. I would be very honored if you would attend."  
  
He knows her father did not intend for her to invite him. He knows that, even if Mr. Brown allowed it, he would not go. Parties at the governor's mansion are not for the likes of apprentice boys like him.  
  
"There'll be cake and tea, and we can ride ponies," Elizabeth is saying animatedly. "Won't you come, Will?"  
  
For a moment he allows himself to pretend, picturing the bright colors and sweets and gifts and laughing children. "It sounds wonderful. I'll ask Mr. Brown. He might let me, if I finish all my work."  
  
Elizabeth smiles brightly and goes back to inspecting the merchandise. "Father!" she calls hopefully. "Isn't this the most cunning little dagger you've ever seen?"  
  
Governor Swann appears and takes her under his arm. "It is, darling, but I'm afraid we must be going."  
  
"Might I have one for Christmas, Father? Please?"  
  
As they leave the shop, Elizabeth still pleading with her exasperatedfather, an idea forms in Will's mind. He will not be able to attend the birthday party, and he won't see Elizabeth again until after long after Christmas, but he will still be able to let her know how much he wishes to have her as a friend.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Boy? What you got there?"  
  
Will shoves the makings of Elizabeth's gift behind his back. "Nothing, sir."  
  
Mr. Brown tugs his arm, pulling him out of the way, to reveal the knife and bits of wood on the bench. Will hangs his head.  
  
"This wouldn't have nothing to do with the little poppet you're always makin' eyes at, eh? The gov'nor's daughter?"  
  
Will opens his mouth, but he can't lie to his master.  
  
Brown shakes his head. "I tell ye this, lad, you'll be much happier if you forgets the lass. Tain't goin' to cause you naught but heartache, fallin' for the likes o' her."  
  
"I just wanted to – to make her something," says Will sheepishly, his cheeks pink. He doesn't know what love feels like, but if it is what he feels for Miss Swann – wanting to be near her, wanting her to be happy and free of cares – then he has been riddled with it since the day he saw her, and there's not much he can do about it.  
  
Ruffling his hair, seeing that no argument will bring down the stars in Will's eyes, Brown says, "S'ppose I cain't stop you from makin' in on your own time, though you watch the fire, mind?"  
  
"Yes sir," says Will, pleased that his plan hasn't been ruined, and goes back to his carving.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Open this one next, Elizabeth."  
  
She tears off the bright green paper and gasps in delight at the small contingent of tin soldiers in her lap. "Oh, father, thank you!" Jumping onto his lap, she kisses his cheek.  
  
Governor Swann chuckles. "As long as you keep asking for dolls as well."  
  
Elizabeth places the brightly-painted soldiers next to her other new toys, reaching for another package.  
  
"Governor Swann?"  
  
Father and daughter look up from their Christmas morning celebration. A maid named Elske stands in the doorway, holding a long rectangular package wrapped in brown paper. "This was on the stoop. When we answered the door, no one was there."  
  
The governor takes the package and turns it curiously in his hands.  
  
"Look," Elizabeth says, "there's writing." She fingers the smudged black ink; it says, in a precise, laborious hand, 'to Miss Elizabeth Swann.' "Shall I open it?"  
  
Frowning, her father says, "Yes, but do be careful, we don't know what it is."  
  
Elizabeth nods and pulls at the string securing the package. As the rough brown paper falls to either side of her lap, it reveals a wooden sword.  
  
"Let me see that for a moment, Elizabeth." He takes it from her grasping fingers and inspects it. It's a beautifully made toy, the blade stained dark and the hilt painted royal blue. There is no edge for an overeager child to cut herself on, and it is sanded so smooth that splinters are likewise not a worry.  
  
"It's a cutlass!" Elizabeth exclaims. She runs her fingers over the wooden blade. "Oh, it's beautiful! May I keep it?"  
  
"Well, we don't know who sent it..." her father begins, but trails off as he sees her eyes shining, fixed on her new present. "Yes," he says with a smile. "I suppose you can."  
  
Elizabeth brandishes it with a flourish. It feels almost like a real sword - at least, it is easy to pretend that it is. It's easy for Elizabeth to pretend a lot of things. For a moment she thinks about its anonymous maker, wishing she could thank whoever it was, but before long her head is too full of daring rescues and dashing pirates to spare room for anything else.  
  
Governor Swann turns the wrapping over in his hands. He has seen Brown's apprentice write out orders and he recognizes the hand. The boy is certainly going to be a skilled craftsman someday. He has always had an attachment to Elizabeth, which Governor Swann has encouraged, as poor young William has no living relations.  
  
Elizabeth dashes past him, holding the skirt of her dressing gown up over her ankles with one hand and wielding the toy sword in the other. Governor Swann ignores the sudden feeling of foreboding in his gut. His daughter is only a child, after all, and her path will cross that of the blacksmith boy less and less frequently the older she gets. He has nothing to worry about. Still, he will not tell Elizabeth about her Christmas benefactor – it might make her feel needlessly indebted to the boy.  
  
With a grim smile on her face, Elizabeth hums her favorite pirate tune and fends off invisible enemies with the gift Will has made her. It will be years before she gets a chance to thank him for it, and by then she'll have held and fought with the real thing in her hands. Then, too, will her father learn that his fears were neither groundless nor, oddly enough, at all consequential.  
  
~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
